


bianca, bunny, bunny, rose

by resistate



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Babies, Dialogue-Only, F/M, Fluff, Kidfic, MFP Being Dorks, Romance, Softness, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 21:36:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18269765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/resistate/pseuds/resistate
Summary: 'This isn't a documentary, Patrice. This is us presenting our best selves to our daughter in the future.'





	bianca, bunny, bunny, rose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anneweaver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anneweaver/gifts).



> The song Patrice sings to Marie is ‘Moi j'ai toi’ by France D'Amour and the song he sings to Billie-Rose is ‘Fais Dodo,’ a French-Canadian lullaby.
> 
> Huge thanks to nat for telling me a couple of things about babies and to úna, nini, and Nicole for beta reading. Any mistakes and/or confusion are entirely my fault.
> 
> For nat, because she deserves all good mfp things.

//

‘Fuck.’

‘What is it, is it Billie?’

‘No—’

‘She looks okay, is she okay?’

‘She’s fine.’

‘—Patrice Lauzon, I will kill you. I will kill you and I will make sure no one ever—’

‘—We didn’t take our photo with her today.’

‘Fuck.’

‘Yes, “fuck”.’

‘Here, give her to me. Just for a minute. Don’t look at me like that! I know she’s fine, I just—yes you are adorable, my little cabbage.’

‘Me?’

‘You are both adorable. Billie-Rose is perhaps more adorable, but she has the benefit of being perfect.’

‘Marie. She is six days old, of course she is perfect.’

‘Please, like we will not always think she is perfect. Ah, see, you agree. It is because I am right. We should have thought of this when my mother was still here. I know she took a hundred photos of Rosie, but—’

‘—they’re on her camera.’

‘Exactly.’

‘I suppose this means I have to put pants on.’

‘Yes, my love, it means you have to put pants on. Here, let me give Billie back to you.’

‘I cannot put pants on _and_ hold Rosie.’

‘Well, I am not talking my photo wearing this shirt that she has spit up all over. Also this colour makes me look sallow and tired, and this is not acceptable. No matter how much of an excuse I have. Is the camera still on the tripod?’

‘Yes. I think you look beautiful, you know.’

‘I know. But I don’t want little Miss Billie Bianca to think her parents didn’t care enough to put in any effort.’

‘Shall we entertain Mama while she’s getting dressed? _Mais moi j'ai toi—Mon amour ne s'achète pas—Je l'ai gardé que pour toi_ —and for my Billie, always for our Billie-Rose— _Non, l'amour ne—s'achète pas—Et on est riche que de ça—_ ’

‘You should sing all the time, Patrice.’

‘ _—Mille raisons de croire au lendemain—_ ’

‘Literally, I can feel my face going red. Just in time for this photo. And I don’t think this dress warrants such feelings; I’ve had it for years. Here, give her to me. You can give yourself pants. Also you need to change your shirt, please.’

‘I mean you, not your dress. And I look good in this shirt.’

‘You look like you’ve been home with a beautiful adorable precious infant baby girl for six days straight.’

‘What can I say? This is an accurate shirt.’

‘This isn’t a documentary, Patrice. This is us presenting our best selves to our daughter in the future. Yes, go, I’ll see you in a minute—Hello. Yes, I am talking to you. To you, Miss Bianca. Miss Billie. Hello. Hello—oh, no. No. I see your eyes lighting up at these sequins. Sequins are for Mamas and Papas only, not for little rabbits. Though, perhaps—I know you weren’t wearing this onesie in yesterday’s photo, but you may as well have been. Your Grandmamma is a lovely woman, and I very much appreciate that she bought you five onesies. She is very thoughtful. Yes, she is! But I do not think they all had to look the same. Oh! Oh, you are a genius, Marie-France Dubreuil. They should definitely not be doing the same thing at that point in the circular step sequence, it does not fit the mood of the music at all. Ah, Patrice. Take Billie-Rose, please; I need to write something down. And change her clothing, please and thank you.’

‘ _Maman est en haut_ — _Qui fait du gâteau_ — _Papa est en bas_ — _Qui fait du chocolat—_ ah, yes, bunny, you are correct. This is not true, not in the least. Your Papa is getting you clothing, not chocolate. Chocolate is for Papas and Mamas only, not for little Billie bunny rabbits. Ah. Ah, yes, here we go. And here is Mama. Hello, Mama.’

‘Hello, my darlings—Patrice.’

‘Yes?’

‘What is our daughter wearing?’

‘A onesie?’

‘Not one for her age group.’

‘It fits _on_ her. And Billie chose it.’

‘Really.’

‘I held up the package and she opened her eyes and they went all soft. Kind of like your eyes are doing right now. And that’s when I knew that was the onesie Rosie wanted to wear. She’s very opinionated, our Billie-Rose.’

‘All right, fine, but you are the one who will explain someday to her why she is swimming in her clothing, not simply wearing it.’

‘Shall I hold Billie in the photo?’

‘You just don’t want to let her go—I don’t blame you. Let me just—I’ll turn the Christmas tree lights back on. If I set the timer for thirty seconds again? Patrice? Patrice.’

‘She fits so perfectly, Marie. Right here against my arm.’

‘Well, but of course she does. She’s your daughter.’

‘Our daughter.’

‘Yes, our daughter. Okay, Billie-Rose. Mama’s here in the picture too, baby girl. Mama’s holding your tiny, tiny hand.’

‘Perhaps Billie is holding your enormous hand.’

‘Ha! Yes! Okay, five seconds. Smile, little patch.’

‘Little patch?’

‘She has a little patch. Right here on her gigantic onesie. Like a little creature. Yes, Rose, you’re our little creature. Come here, little rosy creature.’

‘Marie? You don’t want to look at the photo?’

‘You look; I’m going to cuddle—what’s so funny?’

‘I might have to explain Billie-Rose’s outfit, Marie, but you are going to have to explain _my_ outfit.’

‘Me? Why on earth—oh. Your shirt is on inside out!’

‘I just noticed.’

‘Your father is very silly man, Miss Billie. Very, very silly.’

‘You didn’t notice either.’

‘God, I know, I’m mortified. I was looking at Billie, I suppose, and you know I am so tired. Patrice. I don’t know what I would do without you and Billie. Curl up into a ball, probably.’

‘Do you want to take the photo again?’

‘Let me see? Ah, no. We are happy, and you and Billie are beautiful. And she is so peaceful in my arms right now. I don’t want to disturb her.’

‘We can take another one tomorrow, Marie.’

‘Absolutely, absolutely.’

‘Marie?’

‘You don’t think—should we take another one now? I don’t want Billie-Rose to think—someday, I mean—’

‘Marie. Come here. You too, Billie Rose.’

‘She has no choice but to come; I am holding her.’

‘Yes, but I’m trying to make her feel included.’

‘Ah, see, Billie-Rose? You have the best father, truly.’

‘Look at this picture, Marie. You’re beautiful, and Billie will look at this picture one day and see how happy you are. You sparkle like the Christmas tree, with your dress—you sparkle more than the Christmas tree, in fact, because of Billie-Rose. She will look at this picture and all she will see is how much her parents love her.’

‘Well—’

‘—And besides, we will tell her it is her fault.’

‘—Tell me more.’

‘Well, I was wearing my shirt right side out, of course—’

‘Yes, of course. And then—oh, bunny. You puked all over it, didn’t you.’

‘Our little rabbit puked all over it, you’re absolutely right. And then I had no choice but to turn it inside out.’

‘She’s going to love us.’

‘She’s definitely going to love us, Marie.’

‘Maybe—maybe she loves us already, do you think? You know how when she was born, we fell in love with her when we first saw her. Our Billie. Actually Billie, I mean, not just the idea of Billie. I think—I think she saw us, and fell in love with us.’

‘Exactly, this is exactly what I think.’

‘And also if we time it right—if we show her the picture at the right time, I mean, if she is not too much at the age where she will not want to be around us anyway—she will not care what we are wearing. You are right, Patrice.’

‘All the same, I am going to wear my shirt right side out tomorrow. Just in case.’

‘Oh! She opened her eyes. She agrees.’

‘She really is the most agreeable small—small—small child.’

‘I think she likes it when you yawn, Patrice.’

‘I think she can be agreeable while she’s in bed. And then we can go to sleep too.’

‘First I love you and Billie-Rose, Patrice. And then I love our bed. Which is to say, I too am in complete agreement.’

‘Until tomorrow, then?’

‘Until tomorrow, my love. My loves. Until tomorrow.’

//

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the John Singer Sargent painting sorry not sorry etc.
> 
> This is partly Cat’s fault for posting the relevant photograph in the first place but let's face it this is mostly nat’s fault for yelling with me about mfp and their smol child and sending me snippets of dialogue. 
> 
> Find me on Twitter: @/mfparaph


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